


Welcome Home

by rosecake



Category: Doctor Strange (2016)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Magic-Users
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 14:08:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9328214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosecake/pseuds/rosecake
Summary: Stephen introduces Christine to the Sanctum Sanctorum.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Green_Wing as a part of the Fandom_Stocking community on Dreamwidth! I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> This is very firmly movie canon, although there is ~~some~~ definitely a lot of influence from years of reading the comics.

"So this is the new house," said Stephen, spreading his arms to indicate the glory of the New York Sanctum. Most of the damage from the fight with Kaecilius had been repaired, but after that there had been the fight with the squid-thing he had accidentally let out of a cage in the basement, and then after _that_ there had been the fight with the weird multiplying eyeball thing he'd found in the fridge. Thanks to those, and a few other minor skirmishes which could have been easily avoided if the prior occupants had bothered to label anything, the foyer was looking pretty rough. 

"It's very nice," said Christine as she gingerly stepped over a pile of rubble. Her tone was mildly sarcastic, which as far as Stephen was concerned was probably warranted. 

"I think it has potential," said Stephen. "For the time being, though, I would like to again emphasize that you should _not touch anything ever_ , no matter how harmless it looks. Especially if it asks you to." 

"Oh, it can't be all bad," said Christine. She was sensible, though, and kept her arms tightly to her side. "You found the cloak in here, didn't you?" 

"I did," he said. "To date it's the only magical item in the house that has not attempted to murder me, although I will point out that it does try to trip me whenever I do anything it doesn't like." That was a slight exaggeration, admittedly. Probably only ninety percent of the magical items in the house had really tried to kill him. 

"Oh, it seems like a nice cloak. I'm sure it wouldn't try to trip you unless you really deserved it," said Christine, and the cloak fluttered despite the lack of a breeze in the house. "Although- and I don't mean to criticize-" 

"I have a very strong suspicion that I'm about to be criticized," said Stephen. 

"Yes, well, it's just that it's a Thursday afternoon and you're wearing a floor-length cape just to hang around the house? It's a little odd," she said. "Are you just wearing it all the time now?" 

Stephen sighed. "It starts to sulk if I don't wear it enough." 

It had been awkward at first, getting used to just wearing an actual medieval cloak around the place, but he'd sort of gotten used to it. That, and given the number of things that had tried to kill him with no warning recently, he felt a little nervous without it. 

"Ohhh," said Christine, making the face of a woman who had just seen an exceptionally cute cat video. She patted him on the shoulder a few times, and it took him a second to realize she was petting the cloak. Whatever his life had become recently, he was _absolutely not_ going to be jealous of his own cloak, so he decided let that go without comment. 

"Anyway, we'll avoid the lower floors for now. I can't really guarantee our safety down there," he said. "I think the upstairs rooms are reasonably safe, though. One of the bedrooms has a lovely view of Paris." 

"Wait, _Paris_?" 

"It's a very odd place," he said. 

"It's hard to imagine anyone getting used to all this," said Christine, following him as he made a careful path up the undamaged portions of the staircase. 

"I've had longer with it that you have, and believe me, it doesn't get any better," said Stephen. "You think you've got a handle on things and then one day the books in the third floor library try to eat you because you didn't realize they were supposed to be fed regularly." 

"Ah," said Christine. "And what exactly do books eat?" 

"Raw steak, mostly," said Stephen. "Although according to Wong they will occasionally accept chicken if money is tight." 

Christine stopped, and looked him dead in the eye. "You're messing with me." 

"Oh, Christine," said Stephen. "I really, _really_ wish I was." 

Christine laughed, and then went very quiet for a moment. Her eyes were strangely glassy, and Stephen was at a loss as to what had happened to cause the sudden shift in her mood. 

"Christine?" he asked. 

"It's fine. I was just thinking." She paused, and Stephen waited for her to continue. "It's just been a long time since I've seen you like this." 

"Like what?" 

She turned so that she wasn't looking directly at him, but out the window instead. Outside, people walked around like it was just another ordinary street in the city. He wondered if, a few years ago, he would have noticed anything unusual if he'd walked past this place. 

"Like you're happy," she said. "Like you have a real purpose again." 

A few tears ran down her cheek, and the cloak reached up and wiped her face with its edge. _Good move, cloak_ , thought Stephen. "I guess that's true," he said softly. 

She shook her head for a second, shaking off her melancholy. "Yes, well, I'm hungry," she said, her voice normal again. "Does this place have a kitchen?" 

"It does, but I'm afraid to go back into it. I think the refrigerator might be a literal portal to hell."

"Well, in that case we should probably go out instead."


End file.
